


Pictures of You

by winnix



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: M/M, background beronica, i dont know how football or cameras work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 16:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnix/pseuds/winnix
Summary: Betty asks Jughead to take some pictures of the football game for an article in the Blue and Gold. They don't turn out like he expected.





	Pictures of You

“Jughead, please, I know this is a lot to ask,” Betty starts again, already gazing imploringly across the table at her friend. 

“Asking me to _watch_ an entire football game is a lot to ask, and you’re asking me to do a lot more than that,” Jughead points a fry at her accusingly. She rolls her eyes. 

“You know, watching a sport won’t kill you,” Betty says, taking another sip of her milkshake innocently. Jughead narrows his eyes. 

“It might,” he says. 

“You’re so dramatic,” she says with a laugh, already grabbing her purse. “The game starts at seven on Friday. Try to get some good action shots.” 

“You owe me, Cooper!” Jughead calls after her, but she’s already at the counter, settling up their tab. The Blue and Gold has been on thin ice since its inception, but when Principal Weatherbee realized they had virtually no sports section he had threatened to shut them down, and this time Betty was pretty sure he meant it. So, they had promised the football game against Greendale would get front page coverage, including a number of glossy game photographs. Which Jughead had just recently been roped into taking. He grimaced as Betty returned to their booth. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be there too. On the field, cheering our noble Bulldogs to victory,” Betty says, offering a smile. 

“You and the Vixens are the backbone of this school,” Jughead assures with a smirk. 

“It won’t be all bad,” Betty’s expression changes slightly as she leans across the table, as if she has some great secret to impart, “Archie’s pretty excited you’ll be on the sidelines.”

Jughead can feel the heat rush to his ears. He hopes his beanie is hiding it well enough. 

“You told Archie?” He asks, leaning back in the booth, trying to feign disinterest. 

“Yeah, I asked him some questions about the game for the article,” Betty’s grin is downright evil, but maybe Jughead is just paranoid. “I told him to lend me a jersey for you to wear.”

No, he's not paranoid. Betty Cooper is just evil. 

“I should have never told you about that dumb crush,” Jughead says with a groan, face falling into his hands. “It was in seventh grade. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, sure,” Betty nods in faux-agreement, “and I’m sure you’re totally over it now.”

“I am,” Jughead insists. 

“That’s why you lit up pink at the mere suggestion of wearing his jersey,” she says, grin unrelenting. 

“You’re a bad detective, Cooper,” he points another fry at her. Betty just laughs. 

“And you’re a worse liar,” she says. Jughead sighs and let’s the fry drop. Betty’s expression shifts slightly and he’s surprised to find two hands come up to rest on his forearm. 

“Juggie, I’m serious,” she begins, voice earnest, “he likes you. You like him. You’re both just idiots.”

“Only one of those statements is true,” Jughead insists. 

“Which one?” Betty asks with a quirk of her eyebrow. 

“We’re both idiots.” 

Betty laughs, leaning back in the booth and crossing her arms. 

“Ok, Jug. Have it your way. Bury your feelings in a shallow grave,” she stands, tugging on her jean jacket and leaning across the table to give him a quick kiss on the forehead, “just don’t blame me when it floods.”

“You know too much about burial practices!” Jughead shouts after her. Betty just gives a wave. Jughead sighs, letting his head fall back into his hands. She’s right. He’s royally screwed if it floods. 

 

When Jughead arrives, the stands are already packed. Swaths of people, decked out in blue and gold, are waving huge, glittery signs. He even spots a giant cut out of Archie’s head. It would be funny if it didn’t make him kind of want one. Jughead heads to the sidelines, nodding to Coach Clayton, who looks at him with poorly masked distaste. He thinks for a moment about leaning over and telling him he can’t make his players gay just by being near them, but something tells him the coach wouldn’t necessarily find that funny. 

“Jughead!” He turns at the sound of his name, his eyes landing on Archie instantly. Somehow, despite the fact that the game hasn’t even started yet, he’s already sweaty. His hair is flattened down against in forehead, and he has a deep purple bruise blossoming on his jaw. He’s stupidly beautiful. Jughead almost steps back in surprise before he catches himself.

“Hey, Archie,” he grins, hoping he doesn’t look flustered. 

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says, giving the stands a once over, “it’s really packed in here.”

“Well, people wanna see you guys kick some Baxter High ass,” Jughead hopes he sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. Not that Archie would care, but still. 

“The Ravens have a good team this year,” Archie remarks with a frown, “their new QB is fourth in the state but they’ve always been weaker on defense. I mean, we have them on sheer manpower but when it comes to linemen we’re pretty much-” 

“Archie,” Jughead interrupts. Archie looks up at him. “I have no idea what you’re saying.” 

For some reason, this makes Archie smile. Jughead’s stomach does a strange flip. He blames it on corndog he grabbed earlier from the concession stand. 

“Just cheer for the ones in blue,” Archie says.  
  
“Well, I’ll definitely cheer for you,” Jughead says. Archie looks at him, practically glowing under the huge stadium lights, and Jughead suddenly is seized by a longing to be someone else. Someone who would wear Archie’s jersey, or wave around a big cutout of his face. Someone Archie would actually want to do all those things. Instead, he just re-adjusts his camera around his neck and gives a nod to the field. 

“Get out there, man. Give me something good to photograph.” Archie nods. 

"Wish me luck," he says with a wink ( _That bastard,_ Jughead thinks to himself), before turning around and jogging back to the circle of guys in the center of the field. Jughead walks up and down the length of the field a few times, trying not to focus on the constantly moving shape of Archie. Eventually, he finds himself drifting towards the cheerleaders, warming up by the stands. 

“Juggie!” Betty calls once she spots him. Grabbing Veronica’s hand, the two of them run over to meet him, ponytails bobbing as they go. 

“Hey, Betty,” he smiles, reluctantly accepting the hug she offers. Once she pulls away he turns to Veronica. “Veronica,” he nods in greeting.

“Jughead,” she smirks, recapturing Betty’s hand in her own. She does it so smoothly, Jughead barely spots it. Betty seems not to have noticed at all, so Jughead doesn’t say anything. She’ll figure it out on her own eventually. 

“Get some shots of our routine, ok?” Betty asks. Jughead nods, positioning his camera to take a picture. Betty beams, throwing her arms around Veronica. Veronica laughs and tucks her forehead against Betty’s cheek. Jughead snaps the picture just as Cheryl approaches the three of them. 

“Vixens, those quads aren’t going to stretch themselves,” she says, hands on her hips, looking more like a captain or general than a squad leader. Betty nods, jogging back to rejoin the group. 

“Save that picture for me, will you?” Veronica asks. Jughead nods, which earns him a small punch to the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Jones.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” he shrugs. She smiles before turning to follow Betty. Cheryl clears her throat, approaching Jughead with her arms crossed. 

“Ok, Little King Trash-Mouth,” she starts.

“Please, just call me Trash-Mouth,” Jughead deadpans.

“Ha ha. You aren’t here to make jokes,” she points at his camera, “You're here to take pictures. And I’m expecting some pictures of my squad. Good ones.”

“Is that what this thing does?” Jughead asks, looking at his camera in mock bafflement. “By golly, it’s so newfangled and fancy, I don’t know if I can figure it out.”

“Again, ha ha,” Cheryl rolls her eyes. “Don’t be totally useless, ok?” 

“I’ll try my very best,” Jughead gives a salute. Weirdly enough, the corner of Cheryl’s mouth quirks upward in a look of what seems to be amusement. She doesn’t say anything else, simply turns on her heel to rejoin the rest of the girls. 

The football team having already cleared the field, the Vixens run on, pompoms shaking. The crowd is on their feet in a second. Jughead gets his camera ready. He doesn’t pay much attention to the routine itself, just tries to get as many shots as possible. He just hopes they're good, clear photos and enough to keep Cheryl off his back. The cheerleaders stay on the field to welcome the team as they run back on in a flurry of blue and gold. Jughead spots Archie immediately. He’s leading the pack, massive smile on his face, all lit up like the sun. While the other guys pound their chests and try to get the fans screaming as loudly as possible, Archie gives Betty and Veronica a quick hug. Then, despite all the chaos, his eyes find Jughead. It almost knocks the air out of him. Archie waves, huge and exaggerated, as if Jughead wouldn't be able to spot him in a crowd of thousands. Jughead smiles despite himself and gives a much smaller wave back. It’s worth it for the smile that Archie shoots him. 

The Vixens leave the field and the other team runs on, much to the dismay of the crowd of people in the stands. There’s a great uproar of booing. It’s all very dramatic, but fun in a weird way. Jughead briefly considers that there might be something to these games. Not that he’d ever admit that to Betty. 

It’s hard to capture anything at first. Turns out, people run around a lot in football. He gets the hang of it pretty soon, though, and starts snapping as many pictures as he can, following the players as they move around the field. If Betty wants a spread, she’ll get a spread. It’s not like they have much else to fill the issue up with anyway. 

His legs are tired by the time half-time rolls around. Nothing really happens, the players just head back into their locker-rooms as the audience goes in droves to the concession stand. He hangs around with Betty and Veronica for a bit before they’re ushered back onto the field for another routine (which Jughead diligently photographs). 

Before the second half starts, Betty finds him again, just as a thin drizzle of rain begins to fall.  
  
“Ok, I trust that you’ve taken plenty of photos,” she grins, “you can go home now.”

“Oh, um,” Jughead hesitates, glancing down at his camera, “actually I wanted to get some more. You know, don’t wanna miss those victory shots if they win.” Betty raises an eyebrow at him, obviously surprised. 

“Are you saying you’re actually enjoying a football game?” She asks, obviously enjoying herself. “I thought this was gonna be an endless parade of suffering…”

“Shut up,” Jughead shrugs, well aware he’s behaving like a ten year old, “I just want us to have a lot of picture. For the paper.”

“Of course. This wouldn’t have anything to do with wanting to watch a certain redhead play, would it?”

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Cooper.” Jughead glares at her. She shakes her head with a laugh. 

“Sure I am. Anyway, if you’re staying, you should come to Pop’s with me and Ronnie after the game.” 

“What’s in it for me?” Jughead asks, already knowing full well he’ll tag along.

“My company,” Betty says as if it’s obvious. Jughead crosses his arms. “Fine, my company and cheesy fries,” Betty says with a groan. 

“That’s more like it,” Jughead grins. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” Betty sighs before giving his cheek a quick kiss and heading back towards the cluster of cheerleaders.  
  
“Who says I like you!” Jughead tries to get the last word, as usual, but Betty is already focused on Veronica, who perked up at the sight of her return. Jughead rolls his eyes. He needs to get new friends, friends who don’t pine so relentlessly. 

_Hypocrite,_ a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Betty says. 

_Shut up_ , he replies. 

 

The second half of the game is much more eventful. A Greendale player gets taken off for a particularly nasty fall, which leaves the ref arguing with Reggie for a while. A few touchdowns are scored on both sides until the score is practically tied, just as the clock begins to hit single digits. Jughead hates how into it he is, but when the entire crowd is screaming and the seconds are winding down and _Archie_ has the ball? He feels like the world might as well be ending. 

So when Archie scores the winning touchdown and the whole crowd erupts in a cheer he’s sure is loud enough to register on a seismic monitor, he rushes the field with them. Sue him. 

There are so many people all wearing the same colors it's hard to distinguish anyone. He spots Betty and Veronica in the crowd, holding onto each other and jumping around. He even catches sight of Cheryl, looking surprisingly exuberant. 

Somehow, in all the excitement, he finds Archie. He’s in the center of everything, because of course he is, so it takes Jughead a decent amount of shouldering aside guys much larger than he is to get to him. 

“Archie!” He calls once his friend is in sight. Archie sees him and before Jughead can even process what’s happening, he’s rushing over and wrapping his arms around Jughead. Wrapping his arms around Jughead and _lifting him up._ Like he _weighs nothing_. Jughead knows his entire face is bright red, he just hopes the entire football team doesn’t know it too.

“Juggie!” Archie screams, despite the fact that he’s literally inches from his face. “We won!”  
  
“I know, I was there!” Jughead shouts back over the din of the crowd, hands coming to rest on Archie’s shoulders to balance himself. 

“I didn’t think you’d stay!” Archie says, or rather screams, his voice already growing hoarse. 

“Of course I stayed,” Jughead replies, much quieter. “Your lip is bleeding,” he notices. Without thinking, Jughead moves his hand to press his thumb over the cut. It’s only for a brief second, but when he pulls back, Archie looks up at him and opens his mouth like he wants to say something more. It’s at that moment that Betty and Veronica finally find them. Archie lets Jughead down and Jughead immediately misses the feeling of his arms around him. He brushes the feeling aside and turns to Betty instead.

“You stayed for the whole thing!” She remarks. 

“Everyone seems to be shocked by that,” Jughead huffs. She laughs, slinging her arm around Veronica’s shoulder. They share a knowing look. Jughead frowns. Knowing looks always make him nervous.  
  
“No, I’m not surprised,” she finally says with a smile, “C’mon, let’s go to Pop’s.”

Jughead glances at Archie, trying not to look like he’s waiting for his response. He hasn’t stopped smiling since the game ended. Jughead glances down at the blood drying on the pad of his thumb. 

“Yeah,” Archie says, “let’s go.” 

 

Pop’s is predictably crowded after the game. They still find a booth by the window without too much trouble, mostly because Archie is able to move through the crowd easily. Everyone is patting him on the back and offering to buy him milkshakes. Jughead remembers vaguely when he used to think he was jealous of Archie in sixth grade, when he always got chosen for dodgeball first. Jughead, despite his lanky limbs and lack of coordination, was never far behind, but that was only because Archie would always lean over and whisper to his captain that if they didn’t pick Jughead, he wouldn’t play. Jughead used to pretend this annoyed him, because Archie was tall and strong and whenever Jughead was with him his stomach felt all buzzy and strange, like he was full of TV static. He used to blame it on wishing he was good at sports too. It wasn’t until Archie went to the 6th grade semi-formal with Amanda Hobart that he realized the feelings weren’t jealousy. 

“Earth to Jughead,” a straw wrapper hits his forehead, bringing him back to their booth. Betty, straw still perched in her mouth, grins at him. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” Jughead shakes his head, returning his attention to their shared plate of cheesy fries. Someone has gotten the jukebox to play a pretty much constant stream of 80s music which is, unfortunately, Archie’s favorite type of music. Jughead is convinced that if he wasn’t so intent on devouring the food in front of him, he’d be up and dancing. 

“Any other plans to celebrate besides hanging out with your amazing friends?” Veronica asks Archie, absentmindedly stirring her chocolate milkshake. 

“Nope,” Archie shrugs, “I mean, some guys are throwing a party at Reggie’s house but I don’t really wanna go.”

“Why not?” Jughead can’t help but ask. Archie shoots him a grin before throwing his arm over his shoulder, like its the most casual thing in the world, unaware of the fact that it makes Jughead feel like his organs have suddenly turned to jelly. 

“I wanna be with you guys,” he says. Betty grins at his response. 

“We’re really proud of you, Arch,” she says. Archie ducks his head, shy at the praise. 

“Thanks,” he says. For some reason, he hasn’t moved his arm from it’s position across Jughead’s shoulders. Jughead takes a steadying breath. Betty catches his eye. She flashes him a quick smile before starting up another conversation about some history test they have on Monday. Jughead pretends to pay attention, but really he’s trying to memorize the weight of Archie’s arm, how it feels against his shoulders. He feels a bit like he’s going crazy. If he is, no one else seems to notice. 

Later, when Jughead gets home, his jacket smells like french fries and rain and Archie. Jughead wonders what it would be like to smell like him all the time. He wonders what it would be like to kiss his bloody lip, to feel him and not try to memorize it all in case it never happens again. He lies down on his bed and tries not to drown in it all. 

 

The school is still buzzing from the win when Jughead gets to school on Friday. He’d left his camera with Betty over the weekend to get the pictures developed, so he makes a bee-line for the newspaper office, where he’s sure she has the front page already outlined and ready to go. He’s surprised to find the photos still in a stack when he arrives, and even more surprised to see Betty worrying at her thumbnail. Jughead immediately realizes something is off. 

“Everything ok?” Jughead asks, closing the office door behind him. Betty glances up in surprise at his voice. 

“Oh, sorry Jug,” she lets her hands drop to her side, posture still stiff, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s alright,” he says, still unsure of exactly what’s going on, “how’d the photos turn out?” 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about those,” she says, grabbing the stack before he has a chance to look at it.

“Shit, don’t tell me they’re all blurry,” he groans, “I tried to keep steady, people were just running around a lot.”

“No, no it’s not that,” she says, “really, they’re beautiful photos. It’s just-” 

“Betty,” Jughead cuts in, “let me see them.” Betty looks reluctant for a moment before finally handing over the photos. The front of stack is all the cheerleading pictures, and Jughead doesn’t want to brag, but they turned out really well, with a few shots of mid-air flips that actually came out clear. It isn’t until he gets to the game portion of the photos that he realizes what’s wrong. 

Every photo is of Archie. 

He flips through the whole stack just to make sure, but it’s pretty clear from the beginning. Some could conceivably pass as group shots, but Archie is at the center of every single photo. Some are just of his face, despite the fact that Jughead doesn’t even remember zooming in. 

“Oh my God,” Jughead finally says, collapsing back into a rickety desk chair, “oh my God.”

“It’s not that bad!” Betty insists, taking the photos from his limp hands. 

“Betty!” Jughead jumps back to life, trying not to panic. “They’re all of Archie.” 

“I know but-” Betty tries. 

“No! It looks more like a GQ spread than a football game!” Jughead insists. “Oh my God,” Jughead groans, realizing what he just said, “people are gonna know I took those photos. Everyone saw me there.” 

“Look, we can use some of the ones where he’s with other players!” Betty begins to flips through the photos, already pulling some out. “We can turn the piece into more of a profile on him. He’s the quarterback, after all.”  
  
“Archie saw me take those photos,” Jughead finally says after a moment. Betty stops, turning to her friend. Jughead runs a hand through his hair, pushing his hat off of his head. Betty kneels down in front of him, hands coming to rest on his knees. 

“Juggie,” she begins, voice gentle.

“He’s gonna know,” Jughead says, barely above a whisper. “If we publish those photos he’s gonna know.”

“Jughead, I promise, he’s not gonna know,” Betty says. 

“Betty, I mean it,” Jughead begins, panic rising in his voice.

“I mean it too,” Betty interrupts, expression insistent, “I promise. He’s not gonna know. I got this.” There’s silence for a moment before Jughead finally sighs, sagging back into his chair. 

“I feel like an idiot,” he says. 

“Why?” Betty asks earnestly. Jughead gestures towards the photos.  
  
“Those. They make me looks like some lovesick teenager.”  
  
“Juggie, you are a lovesick teenager,” Betty reminds gently. 

“I know,” Jughead gives a small laugh in disbelief at the situation, “but now there’s proof.” Betty stands up, suddenly determined, and goes back over the photos. 

“I’ll only pick the ones where he’s with other people. We can use some cheerleading pictures too, that way we’ll fill up plenty of space. No one will ever know-” Betty cuts off her own train of thought, holding up a picture. Jughead can see it from his chair. It’s one of Archie, alone, that he caught just as the rain was beginning to fall. There’s a faint, almost blue glow around him, outlining the structure of his face. He’s half smiling, like he’s in on a private joke. It’s so painfully  _Archie_ , just as Jughead has always known him and will ever know him. 

“These really are beautiful photos, Jug,” Betty sighs. 

“Make the spread and we’ll get rid of the rest,” is all Jughead says, before he stands and leaves the office.

 

The paper comes out on Wednesday. Jughead helped put it together, obviously, but he did his best to avoid the photos. Now, they’re everywhere. To be fair, Betty did a fantastic job. The article itself is beautifully written, and she arranged the photos to give a narrative of the game, right up until the final victory shot which blessedly includes the whole team, not just Archie. Jughead doesn’t want to look at it too closely, though. He knows the second he does he’ll have to confront just how much space Archie takes up in all of them. But if anyone else notices, they don’t say anything. Cheryl even comes up to his locker between classes to talk about the cheerleading photos. Luckily, it's the one part of the whole thing he’s willing to discuss. 

“I have to admit, these didn’t turn out horribly,” she says, holding the paper aloft in front of her, as if she’s still making her assessment. Jughead shrugs. 

“There were a few good ones,” is all he says. Cheryl lowers the newspaper, giving him a quick once over. 

“Ok, weirdo,” She mutters, looking like she’s ready to up and end the conversation. She hesitates, however, for a reason Jughead is unable to discern, and takes another look at the front page, a small frown crinkling her forehead. She looks up at Jughead again and opens her mouth before closing abruptly again. Jughead’s eyes widen. He’s never seen Cheryl speechless. It doesn’t last long, though. 

“You’re almost as bad as Veronica, you know that?” She asks. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jughead ask, clearly taken aback. She rolls her eyes as if her point should have been obvious.

“I mean, nothing will ever happen if you don't even acknowledge you _want_ it to happen. Duh," she says, crossing her arms. Jughead just stares at her. She huffs before turning around and walking away, leaving Jughead more confused than he’s felt in a while. 

 

The day passes without any more incident. A few people compliment his photos, but that’s it. He congratulates Betty on the spread at lunch and she just pulls him into a quick hug before he can protest. It’s not until later, when he’s rushing to get to fourth period, that he realizes something is off. He hasn’t seen Archie all day. He decides to forgo history in order to find him, but the search doesn’t take long. He knows what’s going on when he sees the newspaper office door ajar. 

Archie doesn’t hear him come in. He’s just standing there, back to the door, looking at the stack of photos. A few are lying on the table beside him, but he’s clearly stuck on one, his hands still while he stares at it. 

“Archie, I can explain,” Jughead finally speaks, his legs already feeling like they might give out beneath him. Archie drops the stack of photos in surprise, turning around to face Jughead. They go scattering around his feet, mirroring him over and over and over again. Jughead suddenly feels like he’s trapped in a weird dream. The one Archie was staring at before is still in his hands. It’s a close-up, kind of blurry, of Archie, his head thrown back in silent laughter. Jughead must have gotten it between plays. 

“I just came in to see if you or Betty was here, I didn’t-” Archie glances down at the photo in his hand, and then back up at Jughead. 

“I know what this looks like, but seriously, I think my camera was broken or something. I didn’t mean to-” Jughead stops himself, because Archie is walking towards him, stepping over all the other versions of himself on the linoleum floor, walking right into Jughead’s orbit. Close enough for Jughead to smell him, to see the place on his lip where the cut is healing. 

“Jug,” Archie says, so quiet Jughead can barely hear him.  
  
“Yeah?” Jughead asks. Slowly, Archie's thumb comes up to touch his bottom lip. All the breath leaves Jughead's lungs. 

"Was your camera really broken?" Archie finally asks, already knowing the answer. 

"No," Jughead breaths, not trusting himself to say anything more.   
  
He doesn’t have to. Archie kisses him. Jughead can hear the photo flutter to the ground as Archie’s hands come up to rest on his cheeks. Jughead’s legs choose that moment to go out, but it doesn’t matter. He wraps his arms around Archie’s neck and falls into the kiss. Jughead doesn’t spend anytime trying to memorize, he just lets himself feel it, feel everything. Archie’s lips are rough and chapped. He tastes like coffee and mint and when he shifts his hands Jughead can feel the calluses on them. When Archie deepens the kiss, Jughead can feel something shift, right at his core. Like his center of gravity is changing. It makes him dizzy. 

Archie's teeth nip at Jughead's bottom lip and yeah, he's definitely dizzy. 

He grins despite himself, and Archie grins back and then they’re just standing there like idiots, smiling into each other’s mouths. 

Jughead is the first to pull back. Archie is smiling, of course he is, and it dawns on Jughead how ridiculous it is that they didn’t do this sooner. 

“I didn’t think you knew,” Jughead says, shaking his head in disbelief. He’s smiling too, smiling so much his cheeks ache with it. 

“Knew what?” Archie asks, looking a bit dazed. 

“Knew that I liked you, stupid,” Jughead says, punching his chest lightly. 

“Oh,” Archie trails off, cocking his head like he’s considering a real question, “I think I always knew.” Jughead’s smile, if possible, gets wider. 

“Me too,” he says, and this time, when Archie leans in to kiss him, Jughead meets him halfway, his hands coming up to tangle in his hair. It dawns on him that he should probably pick up the photos at some point. When Archie wraps his arms around him and _lifts,_ and Jughead finds himself on the newspaper desk, he decides the photos can definitely wait. 

 

It’s pouring rain on Friday. The crowd is thinner than the last week, but there’s still a decent sized group of people on the stands behind Jughead when the game kicks off. He doesn’t have his camera this time, but he does have a rather unfashionable rain poncho he was forced to grab at the merch stand. It’s blue and gold, because of course it is. 

Betty, huddled under a sleek black umbrella near the sidelines with Veronica, gives him a wave. Jughead returns it, and when she turns back to the field, he shoots Veronica a pointed look he’s sure she can read, even this far way. She just smiles. She told him the other night that she’s playing the long game. Jughead respects that, but honestly, he’s glad he’s done waiting. 

Archie's heading towards him before Jughead even realizes there’s been a pause in the game. The other team called a time out, and Archie has already found his way off the field. Jughead grins down at him at he comes to rest his arms against the fence separating the spectators from the sport. 

“Eyes on the field, Andrews, thought you knew how to play this game,” Jughead says. 

“I do,” Archie assures, “just thought I’d come say hi to my boyfriend before I go win. Again.”

“Someone’s sure of himself,” Jughead notes with a smirk. Archie leans up, pushing back Jughead’s hood. 

“I’m feeling pretty good,” Archie says, before closing the gap between them. He’s kissing Jughead, _seriously_ kissing Jughead, in front of all their friends, the entire cheer squad, two football teams and half the town. His thumb comes up to rub against Jughead’s cheek and suddenly Jughead really doesn’t care who sees them. Hell, they can take a picture if they want. 

“Wish me luck, beautiful,” Archie says with a wink when he finally pulls away. 

“You don’t need luck,” Jughead says, and before he can head back to the field, Jughead tugs at his collar. Archie looks back up at him, and for a moment, Jughead does wish he had his camera. He brushes the thought off. He doesn’t need a photo when the real thing is right here, totally drenched and beaming at him. 

“Next time,” Jughead says, “I’m wearing your jersey. And bringing a sign.” 

“Is that a promise?” Archie asks. 

“Of course it is,” Jughead shrugs. Archie kisses him one more time, quick and ridiculous and _beautiful_ , before he runs back to the field. Jughead catches Betty’s eye again, only to find her and Veronica each shooting him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. He laughs and resists the urge to flip them off. In truth, he doesn't mind. 

A sharp whistle blows on the field and the game starts back up again. He'll deny it later, but Jughead’s eyes are glued to the field in a second. He’s starting to really like football. 


End file.
